


A Father's Day

by MagicalStranger13



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 00:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7245691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalStranger13/pseuds/MagicalStranger13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A family outing turns into an episode of terror when a young Briar Prince doesn't listen to his parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Father's Day

**Author's Note:**

> A quick oneshot in honor of Father's Day.

It was a warm, cloudless day in early-spring, and the royal goblin family were taking advantage of the comfortable weather to go out into the Dark Forest for a picnic by the river. 

For the Briar King, it was an excursion that was part pleasure, and part business, for near their shady spot on the bank, was a hobgoblin settlement that was considering the option of digging a three mile long irrigation trench.  So, much to his wife’s mild annoyance, he was spending a good chunk of his ‘familial bonding time’ with two village representatives, discussing the logistics of the project.  

Bog was doing a stellar job entertaining himself, either drawing aimless designs in the silt with a stick, or fighting invisible enemies.  Sometimes, he wished he had at least one friend to play with.  It’d sure be nice to spar with someone closer to his size and strength, and who would see it as fun as opposed to education, for once.  

Not that he minded his father’s lessons.  They were necessary for him to become king someday, and it was pretty cool to learn so many moves that would make him a formidable opponent, capable of defending his rule.  And his rule was going to be even more awesome than his dad’s!

With his head full of future visions of his monarchy, Bog wandered around the bank, getting more and more into his game of pretend.  Half practicing already established techniques, and half making up new ones. 

It wasn’t long before he really got a handle on an original spinning leap, pin-wheeling his staff in his hands to knock anything out of his path.  Excitement growing, he began to concentrate on perfecting it, and as a result, became completely immersed in his fantasy of dueling with a rogue goblin or fairy soldier. 

His movements eventually wandered up onto a thin, rickety branch that had fallen over the river during a summer storm last year.  Back and forth, he jumped on the branch, using the slight spring from the unstable surface instead of his wings to propel himself higher and higher each time.  Soon, he got it down just right.

“Dad!”  Bog called over to the shore where the king had his back turned at the moment.  “Hey, dad!  Watch this!”

Unfortunately, Briar didn’t hear him over the roar of the water, but Griselda did.  The Briar Queen glanced up from the blanket where she was spreading out their food, and did a double-take.

“Oh, no!  Bog, get off of that branch!”  She said, looking a bit worried.  “It’s dangerous!”

 _That_ caught Briar’s attention, and he looked around.

“I wanna show dad my new move, first!”

“Bog, don’t argue with me!  I said get _off_ of it!”  His mother repeated, rising to her feet and frowning at her son.  “Come back over here!”

“But _mom_ -!”

“BOY, DID YE HEAR YER _MOTHER_?!  GE’ _DOWN_ FROM THERE!  RIGHT _NOW_!”

Bog flinched at the sound of his father’s booming shout and the sight of his glaring face.  Great, he’d gone to all this trouble, just to impress his dad, and now he was mad at him.  The prince sighed and hung his head.

“...ok.”

He started trudging his way back across the branch, when he noticed his parents resume their business out of the corner of his eye.  On a whim, he decided to try his technique one last time.  Readying his stick, he shifted his feet into position, bent his knees, and jumped as high as he could.  Aiming his body in an arch, he managed two full turns, and then threw his legs over in a back flip.

But the instant he landed on the old branch, it snapped in two and Bog plunged into the cold, rushing water below.

Due to the rapidly melting snow on the distant mountaintops, the river was high and _raging_ from the runoff.  It whipped Bog around in its dark depths like a single leaf in a tempest until he didn’t know which end was up.  Panicking, Bog’s clenched his wings together behind his back, while blindly clawing and kicking for the surface.  The sudden impact of the rough water, combined with the shocking temperature, had knocked the wind out of him.  He could already feel the pressure building in his head and throat, his arms and legs tingled with growing numbness. 

Thank the stars, he managed to break through the surface before he blacked out, but the only improvement was that he could now see and breathe; the river wasn’t any less brutal.  It was carrying him downstream at an alarming speed, and he still had to flail his limbs to keep from being pulled under again.  Without something to stand on, there was no way he could fly out. 

As he hacked and coughed to clear his airway from the water splashing in his face, he saw his parents.  They were so far away, almost mere specks in the distance, but they were _racing_ after him. 

Griselda was sprinting as fast as she could along the bank with her skirts bunched in her hands.  Her face was moon-white from terror, and she was practically shrieking. 

“M-mom!”  Bog hacked, suddenly more scared now that he could see her blatant fear.  “Mommy!”

“BOG!  BOG, WE’RE COMING!”  His mother screamed, tears pouring down her cheeks.  “HANG ON, HONEY!  KEEP YOUR HEAD ABOVE THE WATER!  OH, GOD!  GET HIM, BRIAR!  _GET_ HIM!”

The Briar King soared straight above the river, making a beeline for his son.  His expression was a stony mask of concentration, but Bog could see the spiked anxiety in his aquamarine eyes.  The prince felt his heart sink.  His father would _never_ look at him like that unless he was in _serious_ danger. 

Bog renewed his struggles and tried not to cry and think about drowning or being smashed into a boulder. 

A few seconds later, Briar was almost directly above Bog, but not within arm’s reach.  He couldn’t risk getting knocked into the water himself by flying any closer. 

“Swim as close as ye can tah thah shallows, boy!”

Bog tried to do as he was told, but the current was impossible strong.  It had already drained nearly every ounce of his energy.  Still, he managed to use some of the flow to his advantage, even if it did push him towards the opposite side of the river from his mother. 

What he hadn’t counted on was his right shoulder plate striking a submerged rock.  He yelped as he felt it crack, and his upper arm bloomed sore, but he wasn’t really injured.  If anything, he was just startled by the abruptness. 

“DAD!  _HELP_ ME!”

Seeing that his son couldn’t swim any further to shore, Briar quickly, but _carefully_ , extended his staff towards the boy.

Bog immediately grabbed at it, but his wet hands made the metal too slippery to get a decent grip.  He grew more and more frightened at each and every failed attempt.  His muscles were throbbing with exhaustion and he was beginning to sink lower. 

But his biggest problem was up ahead. 

Briar cursed under his breath when he saw the beaver dam.  Normally, that would’ve been their saving grace, but _this_ dam had been abandoned years ago.  It was broken up enough for the river to surge through with ease, and there were jagged pieces of bark and sharp sticks pointing in every direction. 

They’d tear Bog to shreds.

Baring his teeth, Briar forgot about his useless staff and descended as close to the white water as he dared.  He shoved his hand into the river, catching Bog by the forearm.  For one brief, terrible moment, Briar felt himself losing momentum, but he flapped his aching wings as hard as possible so he could overtake the current and free Bog with minimal resistance. 

They missed the dam by _inches_ and spiraled out of control to the bank, crashing into the sand. 

Briar kept Bog clutched tightly to his front, to protect him from getting crushed, and for a long minute, he was just frozen, on his knees, panting, with his arm wrapped across his only child’s back, and cradling his head under his chin.

However, without warning, the respite ended when Briar tossed Bog to the ground and shot up to tower furiously over the prince.  He then raised his staff and swung, smacking the ball-end hard across Bog’s chest.

The boy tumbled head over heels in the dirt, but scrambled to get to his feet as his father advanced.

“DIDN’T YER MOTHER AN’ I TELL YE TAH GE’ DOWN OFF THA’ BRANCH?!  DIDN’T WE?!”

He hit him again.

“Yes, father!  I’m _sorry_!”  Bog cried, backing away as he received another strike. 

The blows didn’t hurt him; the chest carapace was his most protected area.  At the most, it was just jarring and definitely got the point across.  Briar only ever went for the arms, legs, or stomach during a spar.  At those times, it was Bog’s responsibility to defend himself. 

“DO YE THINK WE SAY THESE THINGS JUS’ TAH HEAR OURSELVES _TALK_?!  HUH?!”

“No!  No, father!”

With a tremendous heave, Briar belted Bog in the chest one last time, sending him tripping over a root and leaving him cornered against a tree.  Bog flinched as his father grabbed his damaged shoulder scale and snarled low and deadly, right into his face. 

“Ye know better than tah no’ do wha’ _I_ tell ye, but dorn’t ye **_ever_** disobey yer _mother_ again.  Do ye understand me, boy?!”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Bog nodded.

“Y-yes…sire.”

The intense staring contest was shattered by a hysterical voice.

“ _BOG_!  OH, BOG, THANK _GOODNESS_!”

Griselda came hopping over the dam and practically tackled Bog around the neck, smothering him with so many kisses and hugs, the prince _almost_ wished to face more of his father’s beatings instead.   

“MY POOR, SWEET _BABY_!  OH, HONEY, LOOK AT ME!  LOOK AT ME!  OH, MY LITTLE PINECONE!  ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

“He’s _fine_.”  Briar grumbled, brushing her aside so he could give Bog’s side a forceful tap.  “Ge’ up!”     

“Briar-”

“SILENCE!”

Griselda’s mouth snapped shut.  She didn’t even think of pressing him with her usual sass.  He had that iron tone he rarely used with her, but she knew meant that he was absolutely _livid_ and would _not_ be contradicted.  Not that she could really blame him.  Bog could’ve been _killed_ , for being so foolish. 

“Ge’ yer sorry carcass home, boy!  _March_!” 

* * *

The trek back to the castle was slow and uncomfortable.  No one said a word, and Bog tried his best to keep from rubbing at the twinge in his right arm. 

As soon as they’d set foot indoors, Briar had jerked his head towards the hall and growled:

“Upstairs tah yer room.  Wait ‘til I come ge’ ye.”

That was two hours ago. 

In the meantime, This and That had come, wrapped up his shoulder plate, and given him a willow tablet to chew for the dull pain. 

Since drawing and whittling were out of the question, Bog had chosen to pass the crawling time by reading and was just about to doze off when his door banged open and his father sternly ordered him to follow.

The Briar Prince did as he was told and trailed along behind his king down the stairs, through the halls and back outside.  He didn’t dare ask where they were going or what awful, laborious task his father had devised for him to complete as punishment. 

However, it wasn’t long before they reached a clearing in the tall grass.  Briar turned to his son and threw him a practice staff he’d been carrying in the same hand as his scepter, so Bog wouldn’t notice.

“ _Now_ …,” Briar said, smirking as he readied his own weapon, “…show me yer new move.”

Bog gaped at his father for a beat, but then a happy grin lit up his young face and he crouched to mirror his father’s stance.

“Yes, sir!”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you thought in a comment or by leaving a kudos!
> 
> And have a Happy Father's Day!  
> <3


End file.
